


…and that’s what happened to the potatoes.

by hae84 (muke_oops)



Series: Marvel drabbles [3]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Headcanon, M/M, Phil Needs a Hug, Phil cant cook, and Clint just laughs, honestly could be, or - Freeform, platonic, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4735172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muke_oops/pseuds/hae84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil felt bad that Clint had to do surveillance on their recruitment anniversary and thought maybe his cooking would help cheer the kid up; and he wasn't exactly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	…and that’s what happened to the potatoes.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I got bored of my homework so I decided to look at the prompts tag on Tumblr and write something for Clint & Phil, who are my ultimate brotp. The prompt is as follows: 
> 
> Your OTP can do whatever you want them to on one conditions. The last line must be “…and that’s what happened to the potatoes.”
> 
> Courtesy of mostlyonepiece on Tumblr. 
> 
> I'm so sorry. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, this AU events is based off of the VPU created by Aggie2011 which I have basically adapted as headcanon of Clint's whole existence because it is so beautifully written and thought out. Although this can't fit into her timeline completely all you need to know from it is that Phil recruits Clint to SHIELD, away from his previous assassination life he was leading. And if you have not read the Vantage Point Universe then I highly, highly recommend it!! 
> 
> //All characters represented in this story belong to Marvel, no copyright intended//

* * *

 

Clint sulked out of the safe house, the smell of coffee slowly dissipating into the surprisingly dreary London day. Clint had never really minded surveillance, in fact for a solo operative it was one of the easiest ways to be alone. But today was not a day Clint wanted to go on a six hour surveillance of a _possible_ lead on the Mikhailov case. The task itself was punishment enough, but throw in the fact that he was _supposed_ to be celebrating his recruitment with Phil- he'd been a little bit more than groggy as he woke up.

Phil watched the kid go, the droop of his shoulders demonstrating just how _excited_ Clint was to be going on a surveillance mission which could be done, to quote-"By a monkey with a banana shoved up it's ass". Phil still wasn't totally sure what that had meant, but he had patted Clint on the shoulder all the same and told him he had no choice, but that he would sort something out for when Clint got back.

He wasn't pleased about Clint working either, July 12th had always been their day and it felt wrong somehow that Clint should be working, but Phil knew better than to argue with Fury on something so trivial and set about his surprise for Clint later. 

* * *

 Phil peered down at his laptop screen, huffing at the instructions that made no sense.

"What in god's name is a _blanched_ vegetable?" Phil spoke to no-one in particular, throwing the carrots into the boiling water on the stove. It had been three hours since Clint had left and Phil was not even a quarter of the way through his list. He put the lid on the carrots and prayed they'd be okay. Phil had no idea. 

* * *

 Clint placed his hand on the screen and waited for the little green light, his fingers were numb after insisting that it was July, he _did not_ need gloves and he bounced on his feet to try and get the blood circulating again. The green light pinged and he slid open the door before entering the elevator, pressing the "alarm" button and mentally going over what he found out about the case- which was practically next to nothing. 

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. 

"Hey Phil I go-What the ever loving **fuck**?" Clint very rarely let emotions pass his empty gaze, but the one that slipped through at this moment was one of complete and utter confusion. 

First he noticed the snakes of black smoke seeping out of the oven. Then he noticed the pot boiling over on the stove. Then he noticed the smoke alarm mixing with the steady beat of _Livin' on a prayer_ playing in the background. Then he noticed the copious amounts of... _bird poo?_   covering the living room of the open plan apartment. Then he noticed Phil holding a saucepan at arms length from him, the lid moving every now and again. Phil himself was a sight, his face was red and showed a picture of utter horror and despair, his arms were covered in scratches and his hair disheveled and unruly. And then Clint noticed the ceiling. The ceiling which appeared to be part plaster and part potato. 

Clint had never seen his handler so _not_ in control of a situation before in his life. Even when Phil should never have had control, he did. Phil had been up against terrorists, assassins, Clint, and HYDRA. But never in his life had Phil ever dealt with cooking. 

Clint dropped his gear and moved slowly towards the war zone. Phil, having not noticed Clint come back, jumped before looking ashamedly around him and stepping out of the way- gripping the saucepan with the force of a terrified man. Clint moved to turn of the oven, not daring to look and see what cremated remains were still inside and flipped off the stove. Now that immediate sources of fire were switched off he took a chair and stopped the smoke alarm before turning to his handler.   
  
"Care to explain?" Clint didn't hide the amusement in his eyes as Phil cleared his throat and backed towards the window.

"I-Can you help please?" Phil gestured as best he could to the large window behind him and Clint flung it open, a few seconds later a disheveled and angry looking bird flew out of the saucepan in Phil's hands. 

Phil scrubbed a hand over his face before sinking onto the sofa, Clint followed and waited patiently. 

"I just, one minute I was boiling carrots and then this-" Phil waved his arms dramatically at the room- "happened." 

"Well just start from the beginning, I'll make some coffee." Clint moved back into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding a plop of mashed potato falling from the ceiling.

"Okay, well. I thought that seeing as you were going to be out all day I would try and make some food. So I looked at recipes and found something I thought you'd like. So the beef was in the oven and I'd just put the carrots on to boil-"

Clint hmm'd as the coffee pot whirred into life.

"-But then it was getting too warm in here so I opened the skylight to let some air in and went back to cooking. I'd just finished mashing the potatoes when that damn pigeon flew in through the ceiling and scared me half to death." 

Clint walked back over to the sofa, two steaming coffee cups in hand. Making sure to hand Phil the disgusting black coffee his handler loved so much, Clint shuffled and signaled for Phil to carry on. 

"And then this bird had the nerve to fly around the apartment, shitting on the furniture and squawking at me. By this time the carrots were starting to boil over and the smoke alarm was sensing a mistreated roast and began to scream; which just freaked the bird out more. It started to fly at me Clint. _At me_."

Clint looked at the wide eyed bewilderment painted on the face of his handler and barely held in a chuckle. 

"So then you caught it in a saucepan?" Clint finished off the story for Phil as he took as shakey gulp of his coffee. Phil nodded. 

"And then you came in." 

"Okay...but I don't understand why there's potato plastering the ceiling. How did it get up there?" Clint looked pointedly to Phil and then up to the relatively high ceilings. 

Phil looked from Clint, to the ceiling, and back to Clint.   
  
"Clint, I hate pigeons. So much. As the pigeon flew around the room all i could think of was to stop it. The potato, it was right next to me and I just..." Phil trailed off, shame seeping into his voice. Clint forced himself to stay neutral. 

"Clint. I threw handfuls of potato at a flying pigeon." Phil met Clint's eyes for a second before Clint threw his head back in amusement.   
  
"You? _The_ Agent Coulson. Threw _potato_ at a _pigeon_ in an attempt to... _disarm?_...it. I cannot believe..." Clint wheezed his way though his comment, laughter bubbling up- no longer hidden by his usual ice cold exterior. Phil had never really seen Clint laugh like this, laugh with such abandon. Phil allowed himself a small smile that he had cheered up the kid. He rolled his eyes before turning to Clint...

“…and that’s what happened to the potatoes."


End file.
